Redemption
by StaroftheBlackRose
Summary: I guess there's a plan for all of us. I had to die - twice - just to figure that out. Like the book says, He works His work in mysterious ways. Some people like it. Some people don't. -- John/Angela Movie-based
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The only knowledge of Constantine I have is from watching the movie. I have never read the comics, and most of the random knowledge stuff I'll use will be either my imagination or something I extracted from something random in the movie.**

**Also, this is a John/Angela fic, if you don't like that too bad. And Keanu Reeves is sex on legs—enough said. (Btw, if you want to flame go ahead, but I won't pay attention to any flame attempts.)**

Chapter One

He had seen it, for maybe half a minute. Felt the light of heaven caress his face, knew that he had finally been welcomed to cross the threshold. And then Lucifer healed his mortal wounds, cleaned the sickness from his lungs, gave him back his life, in the hopes that John Constantine would prove once again that he was not worthy of heaven's light. And John came back, as did Angela and even Gabriel, wingless and human as he now was. Chas, however, did not. Of the two people John had vowed to himself he would protect, only one had survived the ordeal. Constantine wasn't an emotional man by nature, and he had seen too much death to be phased by this, but despite all appearances, he _had_ cared for Chas, as one might a kid brother or best friend, which was why he was at the grave now, hands stuffed into the pockets of his black, leather duster as he gazed at the grave that held the body of his apprentice.

Flowers definitely weren't his thing, and he carried none, though he hadn't come empty handed. With a deep sigh, John reached out with one hand and placed his gold lighter on top of the head stone. It balanced perfectly as he stood once more, and he stayed where he was for a few more minutes, allowing himself to feel emotions he normally kept repressed. It was midnight, after all, and there was no danger of anyone being around to witness his momentary lack of composure—though it would hardly be noticeable to someone who didn't know him.

One sentence was all he uttered, before he turned and disappeared into the early, early morning. "Ya did good, kid."

~*~

"So, what do we do now?"

John looked up in surprise as he reached the door to his apartment, arching an eyebrow at the woman standing there. "We?" he asked, moving past her and opening his apartment. He wasn't all that surprised when she followed him in.

"Well, you never know, you might be glad for an extra hand one of these days," Angela told him, crossing her arms and leaning against the entryway to his kitchen, watching as he walked to his fridge and pulled out a carton of eggs. She smiled slightly. "Eggs at one in the morning?" she inquired.

John chuckled. "Want some?" he asked. Angela shook her head, and simply watched with a bemused expression as he scrambled a few eggs for himself, the process taking no more than a few minutes. "I work better alone," he said at length, between bites of egg. "The last three people who tried helping me wound up dead."

The young detective shook her head. "That wasn't your fault—none of it was. Especially not Chas."

The atmosphere in the room turned noticeably colder when she mentioned his name, and an uncomfortable silence fell. Angela broke it a few seconds later. "Look, I know you—"

"No, you _don't_ know, Angela," John interrupted. "He'd been asking to help me on a mission for ages now. I didn't have a choice this time, but I vowed to make sure he lived through it. I told myself I could protect him… only I didn't."

"You were able to protect me," Angela murmured, her hazel eyes searching John's face fruitlessly for any trace of emotion.

Constantine nodded, his dark orbs locking with her bright ones, as hard and unreadable as ever. "Yeah, I managed to save you by killing myself and getting Lu to come up for me, and have _him_ save the world from his son. That's what I call ironic." He set his now-empty plate in the sink, and stuck a piece of gum in his mouth—his replacement for cigarettes, since he'd given them up now that they weren't killing him. "Point is, I don't think I'll be able to do something like that again. I don't need anyone else dying for me. I don't deserve it."

Angela moved around the counter to stand in front of John, arms crossed as she stared up into his face, eyebrows creased as she frowned slightly. "Maybe… John, maybe this isn't about what _you_ need, or what _you_ deserve or don't. Do you think I'll just be able to go back to living the way I was, a plain detective who can somehow _see_ things no one else can, without doing something about them? Do you think I'll just be able to _forget_?"

"It would probably be safest for you if you did," John muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. Before Angela could retort, he brought his arms up, placing them around her neck. She leaned forward slightly, almost anticipating what was coming next… but for the third time, she found herself glad at her hesitation, having prevented acute embarrassment as John placed the amulet around her neck—the one she'd forgotten before. "Just remember to leave it on, this time," he said, a half smile curving his lips—Angela couldn't help but give a wry smile back.

"Don't worry, I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Installment number two; thanks for the reviews so far! R&R makes Al Pacino a happy clam! (Sorry for the vague movie reference. .)**

Chapter Two

It was nearing midnight. John Constantine's apartment was dark and nearly silent, the only noises coming from the clock on the wall and his own, steady breathing. Almost exactly as the clock struck twelve, the phone beside Constantine's bed rang shrilly through the apartment. With a soft groan, John rolled on his side and groped along his night stand until his hand found the receiver. "Constantine," he muttered, his voice a harsh whisper, gruff with sleep.

"_Hello, Mr. Constantine. This is Father Garret,"_ came the voice from the receiver. _"I'm sorry—did I wake you?"_

"What do you think, Father?" John asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"_Point taken. But we need your help."_

"Couldn't it wait until the sun comes up?"

"_I'm afraid not. It is a matter of some urgency."_

With a sigh, John ran a hand through his hair before answer. "Where do you need me?"

~*~

"I thought demons would never touch an ordained priest." John stuck a piece of Nicorette in his mouth as he followed Father Garret to the priest's robbing chamber.

"That's what we thought, too. But clearly—" Garret opened the door, to reveal a strange scene. A man in the robe and vestments of a priest sat crouched in the middle of a chalk pentagram. At each of the five points of the star sat silver crosses, each topped with a white candle. "we were mistaken. It's been all we can do to contain it; none of us have been able to exorcise it."

The possessed Father glanced up with eyes as black as night, skin pasty and veined, as John walked into the room. It hissed and tried to back away, but something prevented it from crossing the chalk outline of the pentagram.

"This is one hell of a possession, Father," John said, circling around the pentagram. The demon never took its eyes off him; the hatred in its stare was palpable. The exorcist pulled what looked like a key ring from his pocket, though instead of keys it held a plethora of symbols fashioned of silver, blessed by a priest long before John had come to possess them.

He held the symbols up in front of the possessed man, flipping through them until he came to an intricately wrought pentacle, at which point the demon leapt back and hissed, though it was kept within the circle by an invisible force.

"This is Constantine. John Constantine. Asshole," John said as he stepped inside the pentagram, careful not to break the circle. "And I'm going to deport you." The demon grunted in Hellspeak, and John chuckled, shaking his head. Turning to Father Garret, he said, "I need a glass of Holy water. Now!" He kept the silver pentacle raised before him, to keep the demon back, until the young man Garret had sent for the Holy water returned, passing the goblet through the circle to Constantine.

The demon eyed John warily, its eyes lingering on the goblet of Holy water he held, as it crouched against the far side of the pentagram. Without warning, Constantine lunged forward, pressing the pentacle to the priest's forehead and force-feeding the demon within him the Holy water. Howls of agony of both the demon and the priest it was possessing rang through the small chamber; Father Garret winced at the grating sound of the demon's screams. After placing the key ring back in his pocket, John held his hand over the priest's face and began chanting in Latin, growing more intense with every sentence, and louder as the demon's screams rose in pitch. Almost as suddenly as it had started, it was all over. The priest collapsed, unconscious, as the thick, dark veins receded from his skin and it regained color. John sat back on his heels, breathing heavily and holding his head in his hands—he had a wicked headache.

~*~

For about the hundredth time, Father Garret thanked Constantine profusely for helping the priest (who had woken minutes earlier with no recollection of being possessed). Before John could say (also for the hundredth time) that he didn't need thanks, he stopped in his tracks, seeing the woman standing just inside the church door. It had been a month since he'd seen her last, when she'd come to his apartment and he'd given her the protection amulet a second time. He hadn't taken her up on her offer of aid, not because he didn't want her hurt or dead (though that was part of it), but because nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, though the number of possessions had been increasing exponentially of late.

"Hello, John," Angela said, walking up to him and Father Garret. "I thought you might be here." She offered him a welcoming smile, receiving a wry half-smile in return.

"Hello, Angela," he replied. "Looking for me?"

"You're not all that hard to find." She pointed outside, where a yellow taxicab could be seen through the windows. The horn blew several times in rapid succession, and a short, fat man stepped out of the driver's side, and started shouting. _"Hey, Constantine, I don't got all fuckin' day!"_

John chuckled. "Yeah. It's hard to find good help these days." Noticing that she still wore the amulet around her neck, he added, "I see you haven't lost it yet."

"No, I haven't," she said, touching the Celtic knot that lay just below her throat. "The last time I did, I wound up possessed by the son of the Devil. Not an experience I'd care to have again."

"Good point." The pair walked in silence, until they stood just outside the church, under the overhang. From the sound of the not-so-distant thunder, it was about to rain.

"John… things are getting strange," Angela said, breaking the silence. At his lifted eyebrow, she amended her statement. "I mean, strang_er_. Suicides have been skyrocketing, as have homicides. We've had five different serial killers operating in LA in the last month alone." The real question was obvious, though she voiced it anyway. "It's the half-breeds, isn't it?"

John nodded, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his duster, staring up at the sky just as rain started coming down in buckets. "Possessions have been going up, too. I just had to exorcise a priest."

"_What?_"

"I know. Something's got Lu's minions working overtime. I just haven't been able to figure out what."

"Sounds like things are heating up."

"Very. Definitely not something most people would want to get mixed up with."

"Yes, well, I'm not most people."

This earned Angela a brief grin. "I'm beginning to see that." And he walked down the steps to the taxi, where his driver was fidgeting in agitation. "See you around," John called over his shoulder, as he flipped up the collar of his jacket.

"I'd like that," Angela murmured as the cab pulled away from the curb and sped off down the street and out of sight.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Once again, thanks for all the reviews everyone, I hope to keep meeting your expectations!**

**Chapter Three**

_It was dark, empty, and completely silent in the small side street. There was no traffic, human or vehicular, only the buzz of the street lamps, inaudible to the human ear. Suddenly, though, the scene began to change. A heavy wind picked up, and the street lamps at either end of the street began flickering, before they began, one by one, to go out, until it was pitch black._

_Suddenly, a column of flame almost fifteen feet high, and at least five feet wide, sprang up from the middle of the street, the roaring sound filling every corner. Just as suddenly as they'd appeared, the flames dissipated, leaving a single figure where the fire had been, illuminated as the street lamps went back on._

"_It's good to be back," Balthazar said, laughing to himself. He was back, this time under orders from the Devil himself. And he would relish every minute of his task._

~*~

"Y'know, Constantine, when ya said you needed a driver, I didn't think it would be a twenty-four hour job."

"You still owe me, Bill. You owe me big time. So quit complaining. I won't be long," John replied, stepping out of the cab and slamming the door shut on Bill's continued complaints. Flipping the collar of his duster up against the brisk, cold wind, the exorcist made his way into Midnite's bar.

"Fox in a hen house," he muttered to the bouncer stationed inside. The man flinched aside slightly as John passed, probably a side effect from having been punched out with one hit not all that long ago; Constantine grinned to himself at the memory. His grin faltered slightly as he remembered who had been with him then, and wasn't here now, but he shook it off—sentimentality really wasn't his style.

As he made his way through the crowds in Midnite's, he noticed a young, pretty halfbreed sauntering his way. _Marvelous,_ he thought to himself—it was too late to pretend he hadn't noticed her coming. "Hello, Ellie," he said as she draped herself over his arm.

"Hi, John," she purred. "It's been a while."

Shrugging her off, John continued on his way through the bar, though she followed close behind. "What do you want, Ellie?" he asked, glancing back at her.

She pouted. "Aw, why the hostility? You used to _like_ spending time with me."

The expression on John's face clearly said that was no longer the case. "Things change."

"But we had such a good time—"

"Go find some half-breed to dick around with, Ellie," he said, cutting her off. "I have a meeting." With that, he entered Midnite's office, shutting the door in her face.

"Fine, be like that," she muttered to the closed door, before wandering off into the bar. "I was only trying to help…"

~*~

"The balance is shifting again," Constantine said, as he slid into the chair across from Papa Midnite. "Pretty damn heavily, too."

"So I've noticed," the black man replied, after considering the man before him in silence for a minute.

"Still trying to pretend you're neutral, Midnite?" John asked as he stuck a piece of gum in his mouth.

"I'm not pretending, John. The only reason I helped you before was that releasing Mammon into the world would have destroyed the Balance irreparably. You may find it hard to believe, but not everyone has the same mission in life as you do. I, too, have my powers for a reason—but I must follow a different path."

This statement was met by a snort of derision. "So what'll it take this time? Lu himself crossing over with his army?"

"Perhaps. But for now, the Balance may still right itself, with your help—I cannot intervene unless this is proven to no longer be the case. There are rules I must abide by, too."

"Helpful as always, Midnite." With this sarcastic remark, John stood to leave, but Midnite spoke again.

"You might want to consider letting her help you."

John lifted an eyebrow. "You too?" he asked, shaking his head. "I don't want anyone else to die for me. People who are close wind up dead."

"So you do care." A smirk lingered about Midnite's mouth.

"Maybe," John muttered, contemplating this himself as he left the office.

~*~

With a sigh of contentment, John stepped into his shower, letting the hot water wash down his tall, unclothed frame, rinsing away the dirt, pains, and worries of the day. Steam rose, filling the small bathroom, and John just stood there, letting the heat soak into his body, easing the tension from his muscles. Just as he'd gotten quite comfortable, he heard a banging at the door to his apartment, loud enough to hear over the rushing sound of the water. "What the Hell?" he muttered, quickly shutting off the shower head and grabbing a towel, wrapping it about his waist as he made his way to his door, dripping water through his apartment.

"I paid the rent already this month," Constantine said as he opened the door—only to find Angela, instead of his new landlord. The young woman seemed rather taken aback by his appearance, probably more startled by his lack of clothes than that he was dripping wet. "Angela." Her showing up had surprised him slightly, too, but he wasn't standing there with his mouth open. Surely she had to have come for some reason other than to stare at him? "Angela, what is it?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.

This caused her to regain her senses, and she took half a step back, collecting her thoughts and attempting to combat the flush creeping across her cheeks. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were… busy." She rummaged for something in her purse, and withdrew a strange coin. "But… I found this just outside my door."

No, it couldn't be… Now it was John's turn to be shocked. "Balthazar," he murmured, taking the coin from her and examining it closely. "It's not possible, unless Lu resurrected him, but… why? He must have come back for a reason." Constantine had a sneaking suspicion as to what that reason was, but he couldn't say for certain. He was about to close the door and return to his shower to think things over, when he remembered that Angela was still standing there. "Do you have anywhere pressing to be right now?"

"Not particularly, no…"

"Good. Come in, I'll get dressed and then we'll pay another visit to the church."

Slightly put off by his commanding tone, Angela nevertheless complied, closing the door behind her as she walked into his apartment for the first time in over a month. The detective looked around the place a little while she waited, once again astounded by the lack of anything personal to mark this place as a home. It looked more like a hotel room than someone's apartment; there was no decoration, no pictures or knick knacks of any kind (save the occasional weapon here and there), sparsely furnished with the bare essentials, nothing to identify the place as John Constantine's, except (presumably) a rental contract and his clothing and weapons. Of course, given what she knew of the man, this was to be more or less expected.

Angela was absorbed in her own thoughts; when John cleared his throat behind her, she jumped slightly. He gave her an odd look, but didn't comment. "Let's go," he said, pulling on his leather duster and opening the door, gesturing for Angela to exit ahead of him.

~*~

"_You're_ Gabriel's replacement?" In spite of himself, John was shocked; the one person he had never expected to see again was standing before him. Angela, who had been there when he died though she hadn't known him, bore a wide-eyed stare.

Chas shrugged as his angelic wings disappeared, grinning abashedly. "I don't know, God seemed to think you'd be more receptive to someone you knew in life—someone you trusted."

"He was probably right," John said; he couldn't deny that it was good to see Chas again, even given the circumstances. But he wasn't here for small talk or catching up time; he needed answers. "Hopefully you've been keeping an eye out, Chas, because there's been an extreme amount of Hell-bound soul traffic within the past month, and a huge spike in full demon possessions."

"Sounds like the Devil has something up his sleeve."

"Oh, don't tell me dying made you all cryptic."

Chas chuckled. "Cryptic is sort of part of my job description. But the truth is, no one really knows what's going on. God can't see any more of what's going on in Hell than Lucifer can see into Heaven—the Gateway that keeps them sealed to their own planes allows them to do no more than witness the goings on of earth; they can't see past our plane, and they can't cross over."

"Wait… Gateway? What's the Gateway?" Angela asked, speaking up for the first time since they'd arrived; she'd been processing all the incoming information in silence, mulling it over in her mind, trying to fit it all together as though they were pieces of a puzzle. She wasn't a damn good detective for nothing, after all.

"It's what keeps Heaven and Hell to their own planes," Chas told her. "By the way, did you hide the Spear?"

Somewhat taken aback by the sudden change of subject, it took Angela a moment to answer. "Yes, I did," she replied, nodding.

"Good. Because, if you think things are bad now… Let's just say, if Lucifer got the Spear, they'd be a thousand times worse."


End file.
